Santa's Workshop

My mom has always had a way with making things seem fantastic and better than they are. She created her own bedtime stories in addition to being reading to us out of our favorite books--Mine was The Forgotten Door. At bedtime my mom wove stories of riding into dreamland on the back of Night Mare a beautiful dapple grey with a long silky mane and tail. Once in dreamland we would visit our favorite places including the gumdrop tree (borrowed from poetry) and would always end our visits with cookies and milk at the Wise Old Owl's. Numerous time Richard and I would wake up certain that we brought goodies back from Dreamland.
When I was young, we lived in an old farm house. Oklahoma sunsets in the fall are vast painted canvases of reds, purples and oranges. The warm ethereal glow demands an explanation. My mother was at hand with a handy one that gave her some practical peace from 3 constantly bickering kids and added everlasting wonder to our lives. My mother told us one evening as we watched the horizon in wonder my mother explained that the beautiful array of colors was from the glow of Santa's workshop at the North Pole. He was making toys for all the good children around the world. Determined to be a child that got toys, I resolved again and again to be good.
Now as an adult, I look at red skies in the fall and remember fondly those incredible vast skyscapes that a farm in Oklahoma has to offer.